Too Close To The Sun
by DIsForDiabeetus
Summary: Today is the day. Today is the day Amy puts an end to the disheveled wreck the world has become, no matter what sacrifices she must make to do so.


First off, this probably won't make any sense unless you've read _'The Road'_ by Cormack McCarthy, and even if you have it still probably won't make any sense, as this is essentially a reskin of one of my old English assessments. But to give some context, this is set in a fictional apocalypse of an unspecified cause in which most people (or animals in this case) have turned to cannibalism. So there you have it, now please enjoy! (I'm begging you!)

Also, don't ask how Amy can give birth to a fox.

Amy awoke to both the sound of rain drizzling down the thin, vulnerable walls they considered protection and the faint peach light that shone through the decayed remains of the window frame onto herself and the two others that lay beside her. She didn't care for either. Not that anything that trivial would matter in a few short hours. She pulled the plastic tarpaulin off herself and half-heartedly ambled over to the empty frame and stared into nothingness. The scene, not least the rest of the world had been leached of colour, save for a solitary garnet can that rolled across the damp concrete, an apathetic soul drifting from place to place in search of any viable reason to keep going.

Not unlike her husband, Sonic. She turned around to see that the pair had wandered elsewhere, each taking a can of food with them. She heard his murmurs from the other room. We are the good guys. I have been appointed by God. Nothing will ever happen to you. She almost thought he was starting to believe it himself. She sat on a withered armchair and took the slender length of grapevine that lay beside it and proceeded to smoke it. It began to cloud her thoughts as the colourless smog rose upward. She abruptly heard her husband whispering to their son, Tails to get down and she looked out the window. A convoy of fellow survivors stalked across the road, surveying the immediate vicinity. Guns in their hands, knives in their belts and bandanna's 'round their mouths. They carried with them a slurry of wide-eyed, badly bruised animals, every one of them chained to a poorly made chariot piloted by another of the group. One of them broke free of her constraints and she elbowed the man immediately next to her in the nose, bringing him to the ground in a mix of affliction and shock. She tried to run but one of them struck her in the stomach with the butt of his gun and kicked her onto her back and shot her point-blank in the head. Brains and viscera sprayed in every direction and stained the pavement. She should have cared. She probably would have, a long time ago, but she honestly felt no remorse towards her. She began to feel groggy from the grapevine and she didn't complain as her eyelids closed.

She screamed in agony as she rose her head from the rough wooden table and he put on a pair of rubber dish washing gloves and as their eyes crossed she saw his utter lack of emotion. The crown of the head, streaked with blood and lank yellow fur emerged through her unbearable pain. The fires on the horizon began to rage brighter. He held the scrawny red body in his hands, so raw and naked and brought out a pair of rusted kitchen shears and cut the cord. Both their cries mingled into a painful echo.

She woke to see the hedgehog watching her on a stool, waiting for a chance to pitch his argument.

You don't have to do this, he said

Her head was still groggy. And why is that?

We're survivors.

The flame of the lamp between them highlighted the hope in the man's eyes.

Survivors?

Yes

We're survivors? What in God's name are you talking about? We're not survivors. We're nothing more that walking dead in a horror film.

I'm begging you.

His eyes began to tear up.

Do I look like I care? It doesn't mean anything to me.

Please.

Stop it.

I am begging you, I'll do anything.

Such as what? What could you possibly do for me?

He opened his mouth, only for no words to come out.

I should have done it a long time ago. When there were three bullets in the gun instead of two. I was stupid. We've been over all of this. I didn't bring myself to this. I was brought. And now I'm done.

He sat there, the tears rolling down his cheeks, no argument to give.

I thought about not even telling you. That probably would have been for the best. You say you can defend us? You have two bullets and then what? You can't protect us. You say you would die for us, but what good is that? I'd take him with me if it weren't for you. You know it's the best thing for him.

You're talking crazy.

No, I'm speaking the truth. Sooner or later they're going to find us and you know it. They will find us and kill us. They will rape me. They will rape him. They'll find us and rape us and kill us and eat us, and you just can't face it. You'd just wait for it to happen. You'll tell yourself that it's not going to happen, but deep down you know. But you can't face it.

She took the grapevine and puffed on it, the smoke clouding their faces from each other.

Please don't do this

I'm sorry.

I can't do it alone

Then don't. I can't help you. I am done and I have been for a long time. You talk about taking a stand when there is no stand to take. I gave up the minute he was born so don't ask for sorrow now.

He didn't say anything

You don't have an argument because there is none.

Just wait till morning. Please

I have to go.

She stood up and left the room.

What am I supposed to tell him?

I can't help you.

She left the room. He was in pursuit. She grasped the piece of obsidian she had been sharpening for days. He himself taught her how to do it, and she was sure the painful irony was torturing him. She turned around an looked at him and ran the sharp edge across her throat. She fell onto her knees as the blood dripped down her neck, and as her vision faded she saw him looking at her with confused, scared eyes.


End file.
